Markipliers' Adventure in the Sims Universe
by GurdenOfHell
Summary: Story Summary: Markiplier finds himself sucked into the Sims world. Not knowing how he got there, his 'housemate' being less than useful, he must find a way back. The only clear option to him is to play a game. But will he have the chance to find a way out with his housemate watching him at every turn and when Mark starts getting feelings for his housemate, will he want to go back?
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note/ Got bored after playing the the Sims (the first one for the PS2 that says 'Get A Life' on the title screen'), I watched a few Markiplier videos and then the idea happened; why not have Markiplier in the Sims universe? This is no particular Sims world, just one I made up. And will continue making up though out this story. Honestly 'm just bored, but this seems like it could prove to be fun. Someone will like it…. I hope…**

**P.S., I'm not sure whether Mark has a girlfriend or not. I don't pay to much attention at those types of details. But for this story, let's just assume he doesn't. For the story's plot and all that jazz. Nor am I sure if he's straight or gay or if he goes both ways. For this story, let's just assume he goes both ways. Funner that way. Plus, Mark lives in Ohio right?**

**Disclaimer/ I do not own The Sims nor Markiplier. He is his own person, but don't we all wish to own Markiplier?**

**Story Summary: Markiplier finds himself sucked into the Sims world. Not knowing how he got there, his 'housemate' being less than useful, he must find a way back. And so far, the only clear option is to play a game. But will he have the chance to find a way out with his housemate watching him at every turn? More importantly, when Mark starts getting feelings for his housemate, will he want to go back?**

**Chapter One: What the Fuck?!**

"And as always, I will see you in the next video! Bu-bye." With a wave of his hand at the camera, Mark sighed. Running the same hand though his raven locks, he rubbed his eyes before saving the recorded data he had just done for The Sims 4. The game was fun to play, just not a game for him. There was just so much stuff to do that he didn't know what to do. Let alone how to keep three sims alive… well, two sims. Wade didn't count. His life was crazy enough a revolved around him playing games all day. He really didn't live properly as is. He barely kept himself alive and well. He certainly didn't need to be looking after three, no two, 'simulated' lives. But he played the game, and had some fun playing it and cheated a little for more fun. All for his fans. That's what he lived for. His fans.

Leaning back in his chair, Mark sighed again. His life wasn't bad, he loved it really. But sometimes, he wonders what his life would be like without his career in Youtube.

"Most likely like the Sims I just played." He chuckled. "Just, without the crazy bullshit." He chuckled again. He really made a poor God. Hence why he was human and not a God. A lonely human. In a rather lonely house and studio.

Yes, the all powerful Markiplier was a lonely man. Even with his immense charm and good looks, he had no one to go home to. No one to love. He didn't care whether it was a man or woman, wither were fine by him.

"One day I'll find the one." He muttered looking at his camera. It was still recording; his face was still on his computer screen looking back at himself. Sighing yet again, he reached over to save and turn it off, when a letter appeared on his screen. It was a vibrant mixture between blue and white with the words 'I'm here for you, Markiplier' written on it in digital text and took up nearly the entire screen blocking off what he had been doing.

"Who's here for me?" He questioned his face contorting into a half questioning and half retarded look. He tapped his fingers against the keys on his keyboard, looking to the plushie Tim Box Tim sitting on his desk. "Should I Tiny Box Tim?"

In a voice all his own yet sounding slightly different so it matched the voice he had given to the unanimated object he found so adorable and worth picking up in an custom story for Amnesia. "Go ahead Mark. There's nothing digital text can do to hurt you."

"Good point Tiny Box Tim!" Mark exclaimed. "There is nothing digital text can do to me… except hurt my feelings."

"Aw, don't think like that Mark!" Mark said for the unanimated object.

"I'm sorry Tiny Box Tim." He picked up the plushie and kissed it several times over. "I won't think like that again." He put the plushie back down, thinking that, in some way, he may just be insane. "I probably am, but!" He returned his attention to the letter waiting to be open on his screen. "This letter must be read!" He clicked on the letter, watched it disappear before a white screen popped up. "Dear Markiplier," He read out loud for reason he didn't fully understand. His fans really had no idea how much he actually did off screen that was the same as on screen that would normally be considered strange or overkill or outright annoying. "My name is Bee Von Rose from Midnight Cove. And I am inviting you to come stay with me. Well, invites the wrong word. I'm bringing you to Midnight Cove." Mark sat up, face a mix of shock and confusion. He looked to the plushie Tiny Box Tim. "Digital words can't hurt me right?" Before he could answer fopr the plushie, another message appeared on his screen. "They can hurt you Mark." He read. A feeling of being watched came over him as he looked around and grabbed the plushie Tiny Box Tim for comfort. "Protect me Tiny Box Tim!" He yelled holding the plushie close. Another message popped up. "Nothing can protect you. You're coming to me now." Mark bit his bottom lip. "No I'm not! You're just digital text on my computer! All I have to do is click the little red 'x' in the corner and that'll be the end!" Another message. "The is never the end is never the end is never the end- Oh my god it goes on forever!" Mark yelled clutching the plushie Tiny Box Tim remembering the Stanley Parable as where he had seen those words before. "Oh my god! Tiny Box Tim, what is happening?" He yelled again as his computer screen began to glow brightly. He thought about running, but his legs wouldn't move. His body wouldn't move for that matter. He watched the screen glow brighter and brighter, blinding him completely.

Oh, it wasn't that bad." A voice chuckled behind him. Opening his eyes and turning in his swivel chair, he saw a man smirking at him. The man looked to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties with sun kissed blond hair that stopped a little was past his shoulders. Ocean blue eyes stared into chocolate brown ones with a slight cockiness to them. Pearl white teeth glistened behind smirking pink lips. Slightly bulging muscles defined the mans body under a black, rolled up long sleeve button up shirt with the top three buttons undone giving Mark a good look at the mans tanned skin underneath it. And loose black pants nearly covered black boots. "Like what you see?"

"I, uh, I…" Mark was at a loss for words as his eyes traveled from the man to his surrounds. One thing was for sure; he wasn't in his studio anymore. But he was in someones studio. Or, at least, someones study room. All around the room, lining the walls like a library, were books and books and even more books lining bookshelves among bookshelves. A metal fireplace sat in the center of the room, some type of glass was preventing the fire and smoke from spreading around yet allowed the warmth to caress the room. Extremely expansive looking chairs, all ten of them dyed a rich shade of red and gold, formed a circle around the fireplace with small amazingly crafted wooden end tables sitting in between each chair. Turning in the swivel chair, which Mark noted wasn't his as it was a matching red and gold color as the chairs around the fireplace, he saw two rather strange eyeballs jutting from the metal table with another swivel chair sitting next to him. "Tiny Box Tim…" He looked at the plushie he still had clutched in his hands. "I don't think we're in Ohio anymore."

"Oh, you're far from Ohio Mark." The man said causing Mark to turn around to face him. "My name is Bee Von Rose. And I welcome you to my home in Midnight Cove."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

"Oh, you're far from Ohio Mark. My name is Bee Von Rose. And I welcome you to my home in Midnight Cove."

Mark stared at the man oddly named Bee. Was this real? Did he really get teleported to another world though his computer? Blinking several times over, just to make sure his eyes were still functioning properly, he once again looked around the room then down at the Tiny Box Tim clutched in his hands.

"You said digital words couldn't hurt me!" He said accusingly at the plushie. "You lair!" Bee, who had chosen to watch the strange sight before him, nearly burst out laughing. Was this man for real? "And this can't be real! I'm sleeping! Just having a very bad nightmare." Mark reassured himself.

"Oh? Is that so?" Bee asked with a raised eyebrow. He took a step closer to Mark and bent over so he was eye level with the raven haired man. "Care for me to prove you wrong?" Said raven haired man had backed up until his back was flat with the swivel chair, though Bee still seemed to close for comfort.

"What are you gunna do?" Mark asked then wished he hadn't. Bee grabbed the collar of his black short sleeved shirt and pulled him forwards, closing his lips over Marks. Mark stilled for a moment, eyes wider than plates before he tried to pull away. But he had failed to see that Bees' other hand had slipped behind his head, fingers entangling in his raven locks, holding him in place. A tongue slid across Marks bottom lip before it began to prod its way into his mouth. To Mark, Bee tasted like chocolate and cookies as the older man wrapped his tongue around his own. IT wasn't a bad taste, but it was certainly odd. And it completely shot down his dream theory.

Once again, he tried to free himself as Bee began to push his body against Marks, but to no avail. He even tried pushing the plushie Tiny Box Tim against Bees chest with all his might, only to have Bee sit on his lap. Not good!

The extra weight cause the chair groan and whimper in protest before it gave out and fell downwards until it met the wheels holding it up. The sudden movement caused Mark to gasp in shock and Bee to advantage of that by pulling his tongue into the older mans mouth. Giving Mark a better taste of him. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Bee pulled away, though he still had a tight grip on Marks shirt, and smirked at the heavily panting man under him.

"Did that feel fake to you?" He asked with a chuckled kissing the tip of Marks nose.

"N-no!" Mark said in a half sob like voice. "That felt rather real actually." He shook the plushie in his hands. "Help me Tiny Box Tim! Help!"

"Heh." Bee snorted getting off the now partly broken swivel chair. He pulled Mark up with him, finally releasing the hold he had on the younger mans shirt. Only to grab his wrist and pull him out of, what Marked assumed the study room.

"What do you want from me?" Mark asked as he was dragged though a rather expansive looking and steel and glass plated everything kitchen.

"You? Hm, I don't feel like telling you." Bee said stopping in what appeared to be a living room.

"Oh, that's useful!" Mark huffed. "Tiny Box Tim, we're in a world of a mess aren't we?"

"So it appears Mark." Mark said for the plushie.

"Insane man…" Bee muttered releasing the younger mans wrist. "Anyways, you're here and must live life normally, least as normally as you can manage."

"Live? As in what? Get a job and earn money and- and do real work?"

"Exactly like that."

"Great. Just do-da great!" Mark huffed. "And where the hell am I going to get a job? The internet?"

"That's one option." Bee pointed to him. "There are two others, the newspaper which I have yet to bring in and actually going to the places offering the jobs."

"Alright… Since I stuck here… What do you do? I mean, it must be something that pays huge judging by this place." Mark noted looking around the living room. The walls were painted a rich red trimmed with a golden color design. Several floor to ceiling windows were placed in each corner and near the heavy wooden door which lead to the outside world. There was a giant flat screen TV hanging from one wall with a low coffee table before it and a big black couch beyond that. Mark also noted the amount of easels and statues filling the room. "Painting or something?"

"No, painting is my hobby. My job is writing. I'm the most famous writer in all Midnight Cove." Bee smirk. "Hence my lavish lifestyle."

"Writer? Well, whatever floats your boat I guess." Mark shrugged.

"So?" Bee asked with a raised eyebrow.

"So what?"

"What do you plan to do for a job?" Bee clearified.

"Oh! Oh… I-I have no idea. Do I have to get one?" Bee snorted at the younger mans childish way of asking. As if he were his parent or something.

"Yes. Because I'm not paying for anything you do or buy or whatever. You're a big boy, you can tend and fend for yourself. Or at least I hope you can."

"Yeah, yeah." Mark sighed. He felt like a teenager getting yelled at for something stupid. And maybe he was. He looked down to his plushie and smiled. "Well Tiny Box Tim, I guess we're getting a job!"

**AN/ Yeah, I know it's kinda crack, but I promise it will get somewhere! I am just kinda running low on ideas and how this should all work out. I have the plot, now it's a matter of filling in the blanks and fillers in between.**

**R & R Please! Anything would be useful really.**


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